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AND OTHER STORIES. 


By -A.. H. LAIDLAW, Jr. 


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How She Married Him, 



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AND OTHER STORIES. 




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BY 


A. El . D a i du A vv , Jr 

*•> 

(Author of “ Purgatory.”) 


COPYRIGHTED 1892. 
All Rights Reserved. 



NEW YORK: 

Dickson & Laidlaw, 

733 Sixth Avenue. 


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CONTENTS. 


PAGE 


How She Married Him, 5 

Rejected, 13 

4 


A Tale of Alternate Transmigration, ... 18 

/ 

The Autobiography of a Coffin, 37 


A Composite Scheme, 48 


HOW SHE MARRIED HIM. 


♦ -*♦- ♦ 


^IFTER innumerable promenaded in the moon- 
light; after sundry foolish queries and replies 
on both sides concerning wealth, position and in- 
sanity; after cursory consultations as to their respect- 
ive states of heart and mind; and, after man}?' days 
and manifold delays, — Gladys Westingfork and 
Reginald Weltingbroke decided to consider them- 
selves engaged. Having kept the information to 
themselves until they became giddy with suppressed 
emotion, they announced their engagement to the 
world, which continued to revolve as though noth- 
ing of the sort had occurred. 

Gladys Westingfork and Reginald Weltingbroke 
enjoyed the privilege of being engaged in the usual 
idiotic fashion and no cloud marred their intense 
happiness even when Gladys extracted a promise 
from Reginald to the effect that, no matter what 


6 


HOW SHE MARRIED HIM. 


should happen to necessitate a change in the pro- 
ceedings, he was to allow the wedding to take place 
in a church. Reginald thought Gladys’s wish a trifle 
superfluous as he had fully intended being married 
in a church, nevertheless, he promised his darling 
that her wish should be granted and again they 
commenced the somewhat thankless task of being 
agreeable to each other. 

In course of time, the wedding-day was set, the 
dressmakers had been interviewed and the invita- 
tions were sent out. The day gradually drew near, 
and alas! that ancient enemy of the House of Wel- 
tingbroke — Inflammatory Rheumatism — also drew 
near at the same time and Reginald fell an easy 
victim to its stealthy grasp. 

Three hours before the time appointed for the 
wedding, Reginald Weltingbroke’s physician for- 
bade him to attend it, at which Gladys Westingfork 
appeared upon the scene, exhibiting rare signs of 
human distress such as are seldom seen except upon 
extraordinary occasions — and the stage. 

“You will not deny me the pleasure of being 
married in a church, will you ?” she wailed. “Some 
of the people are going there now and it is too 
late to stop them. The cake is ordered, — ma has 
hired the silver, furniture and extra help for the 
reception at our house, and it is unlucky to post- 
pone a wedding anyway. You promised me that I 


HOW SHE MARRIED HIM. 


7 


could be married in a church and I shall die if I 
can’t be. Even if you can only creep up the aisle, 
I think it is your duty to be present and I will be 
extremely grieved if you are not there, for married 
in a church I must and shall be at twelve o’clock 
to-day,”- on hearing, which Reginald Weltingbroke 
was forced to admit that it was too late to postpone 
the wedding. 

Between his groans, he described to Gladys how 
impossible it would be for him to allow himself to 
either crawl, creep, or be pushed, carried or shot up 
the aisle. He even objected to being strapped in a 
chair and being tagged and expressed to the church 
as if he were a wedding-present. 

Gladys, however, still insisted on being married 
in a church at twelve o’clock. What was to be 
done ? The best man arrived and suggested that he 
might be proxy and that Miss Westingfork could 
marry him in Reginald’s name. Gladys consented 
to that proposition but Reginald objected and it was 
not accepted. 

Suddenly Gladys gave vent to a plan which was 
immediately adopted. There was no time to lose. 
The best man was despatched to a friend's house 
near by, — he soon returned, bearing a full-fledged 
phonograph which he placed beside Reginald, 
whereupon Gladys handed her fiance a prayer-book 
opened at the marriage-service and, between ex- 


8 


HOW SHE) MARRIED HIM. 


clamations concerning pain and weakness, Reginald 
proceeded to groan his quota of responses into the 
machine. 

After a few final endearments and instructions, 
Gladys departed to prepare for the ceremony, leav- 
ing Reginald and his best man to fill the phono- 
graph with the marriage-service at their leisure. 

During a lull in the proceedings, Reginald mur- 
mured, — “If I wasn’t in love with Gladys, Jack, 
I’d pitch the pesky machine at her head.’’ In 
truth, Reginald Weltingbroke was annoyed. 

When the troth of the groom had been sufficiently 
plighted to the phonograph, it was packed up and, 
accompanied by the best man and Reginald’s best 
wishes for a pleasant journey, the metallic groom 

set forth to meet its bride. 

******** * 

The church was crowded with people of all sorts; 
— friends, acquaintances, enemies, reporters, no- 
bodies, somebodies, reprobates and hirelings. The 
joyous strains of the “wedding march ” burst forth 
from the organ as the bridesmaids, followed by the 
bride and her father, approached the altar, while, 
at the same time, the best man and the minister 
strolled from the vestry into the chancel. The best 
man held a phonograph under his right arm, while, 
with his left, he awkwardly assisted the minister, 
who was endeavoring to bring a small table upon 


HOW SHE MARRIED HIM. 


9 


the scene. They placed the table beside the bride 
and set the phonograph upon it. 

After a chilly silence had pervaded the edifice for 
a time, the minister said, — “If any man can show 
just cause why this person and this — this — machine 
may not lawfully be joined togeth — ” then he 
stopped for the bride was pinching him. She ex- 
plained in an undertone, — “My would-be husband 
is very sick and this phonograph has his voice in it. 
I am not marrying the phonograph.” 

“I gathered as much — ” whispered the minister, 
and turning to the people, many of whom were 
murmuring and demurring with the possible 
thought that Reginald Weltingbroke might be an 
impediment to the marriage about to be consum- 
mated, he said, — “Beloved brethren, this lady is 
not marrying the phonograph. The groom is un- 
avoidably detained, but his voice is encased in the 
instrument before you. If any man can show just 
cause why this lady and the voice of the groom 
may not lawfully be joined together, kindly let me 
know immediately.” 

No one objected and the marriage was continued. 

After a time the minister leaned forward and 
spoke to the bride. “What is it’s name?” he 
asked. “ His name is Reginald Weltingbroke,” 
answered the bride haughtily. “Voice of Reginald 
Weltingbroke” — inquisitively inquired the minis- 


IO 


HOW SHE MARRIED HIM. 


ter — “Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded 
wife ? ” Here the best man took his cue and, step- 
ping to the table, turned a crank, whereupon the 
phonograph, which up to this time had maintained 
a discreet silence, ejaculated in shrill tones, — “I 
will 1, Reginald — ” 

“ Hush! It is going on with the next response ” 
— said the minister, who then turned and inquired 
of the bride, — ‘ ‘Wilt thou have the man represented 
by this machine to thy wedded husband?” “I 
shall! ” replied the bride in a determined manner, 
shortly after which her father gave her away to Mr. 
Phonograph, who, in uncertain tones, elaborated by 
hitches and jerks, then blurted out the following: — 

“ Weltingbroke, take thee — O, my head! — Gladys 
Westingfork, to my wedded wife, to have and to 
hold trom this — weak ? I should say I was! — day 
forward, for better or worse — it’s getting worse! — 
for richer, for poorer — what are you laughing at, 
you blankitv-blank idiot ? — in sickness — exactly — 
and in health, to — ” from which point the voice 
became unintelligible, excepting here and there 
where an infantile cuss-word ” rang out clear and 
strong, searching the auriculars of the entire con- 
gregation. 

The bride appeared slightly embarrassed and the 
minister invited the best man to cease turning the 
crank. He did so, shortly after which the cere- 


HOW SHE MARRIED HIM. 


II 


mony was discontinued temporarily and the bridal 
party sat down, while the best man took the phon- 
ograph back to Reginald in order that the shattered 
response might be repaired. On his return, the 
wedding was taken up where it had been left off and 
the phonograph screeched the before-mutilated re- 
sponse in a truly artistic manner. Then the bride 
had another little say, after which the best man 
laid a ring upon the phonograph and the bride laid 
her hand upon the ring while the machine mut- 
tered, — “With this ring I thee wed and with all thy 

worldly goods I thee endow If I wasn’t in love 

with Gladys, Jack, I’d pitch the pesky machine 
at her head.” 

All — including the bride's father, the best man, 
the minister, even the bride herself — looked posi- 
tively annoyed at this voluntary confession of love 
for the bride on the groom’s part. However, they 
gradually recovered from their temporary embar- 
rassment and the minister soon afterwards ventured 
to say, — “ I pronounce this woman and the voice of 
the man represented by this phonograph, man and 
wife.” 

So they were married. She that had been Gladys 
Westingfork repaired at once to the house of her 
chosen one, flew to his room, entered and knelt by 
his side. “Reginald,” — she cooed, — “I am mar- 
ried.” “Are you?” — replied Reginald, — “Am I 


12 


HOW SHE MARRIED HIM. 


\ 

married too?” “Your voice is,” — answered the 
bride, — “I am married to your voice, but, as your 
voice cannot be separated from you very well, ex- 
cept through the medium of a phonograph, from 
this day I shall consider myself married to you — 
voice and all. I am so happy, Reginald! I had a 
presentiment that something would happen to pre- 
vent my being married in a church, but nothing 
did prevent it, dear, and I could just kiss you.” 
She did so. 

“My darling! ” murmured Reginald and, raising 
his arms with difficulty, he embraced his wife. 



REJECTED. 



HE was so lonely — her baby was dead — and 
she was so poor, — very poor. She was too 
weak to work and too unhappy to put her heart into 
anything. She would sit at her window for hours 
and look out at the children playing in the street. 
She remembered that her darling had loved them 
and, in a way, they seemed to bring her little one 
back to her — her little one that had gone far. far 
away to an Invisible Land. 

All the mother’s savings had gone to buy a plot 
in which to bury her baby. She needed money 
badly. She read an old paper to see if any one 
wanted to employ a woman who was too broken- 
hearted to work. No, — nobody wanted her. He r 
eyes wandered to a story in the paper and she tried 
to read it, but could not. 

A thought suddenly flashed through the mother’s 


i4 


REJECTED. 


\ 

dulled mind and brought her back to something 
more than mere existence. Why could she not 
write a story — a story about her baby ? Some one 
would be sure to buy it and the money she would 
receive for it would enable her to live a while longer, 
and she would feel as though the money had come 
from the little angel that was in Heaven — the angel 
that used to be her little one. Yes, she would write 
the story. She would try to see her darl ing through 
the eyes of others. She would write as though she 
were the cripple across the street who had loved 
him. Her story would certainly be accepted. No 
one could refuse it — the story of her baby. 

She would sit by the window and write where 
she could hear the children playing merrily in the 
street. The bit of a pencil held tight in the wasted 
hand wandered back and forth over the crumpled 
sheet of paper. She felt that she was telling the 
story too feelingly and destroyed what she had 
written. Then she began again, trying hard — O, 
SO hard — to write as though the words came from 
the heart of the cripple across the street — not from 
her own heart. 

She wrote on and on till the crumpled sheet was 
covered with words — till it was wet with tears. She 
could not help crying ; it all seemed so strange — a 
story about her baby. Would the cripple across 
the street have written a story like it ? 


REJECTED. 


15 


The shadows began to creep in through the win- 
dow. The } 7 told the mother that the night was not 
far away and, with feverish cheeks and throbbing 
temples pressed fast against the window-pane, she 
read what she had written o’er and o’er, till it be- 
came too dark to see — till her eyes were blinded 
with tears. 

She would take the story to the office of the paper 
herself; she could not afford to send it by the post. 

She would go early the next morning. How ex- 
cited she became ! Her eyes burned with expecta- 
tion and she could not sleep. 

Morning came at last after a long, weary night. 
How the mother trembled when she reached the 
office, but the gentleman she saw there was kind — 
so kind. He took her name and address and prom- 
ised to read her story. She kissed his hand and 
went away — went back to her desolate home. 

A week passed. Why did she not hear from the 
gentleman ? Her small stock of provisions was 
nearly exhausted, and she was too proud to beg. 
The gentleman would probably publish the story 
first and pay her for it afterward. She would wait 
a while longer. 

One evening the postman stopped at the desolate 
home for the first time in many years. He had a 
letter for the mother and her hands trembled so that 
she could hardly open it. There was no money in 


l6 


REJECTED, 


the envelope — only her story. The gentleman had 
probably sent it back to her now that it had been 
printed. She slowly unfolded the paper and a note 
dropped into her lap. She read the note and the 
truth gradually dawned upon her. The gentleman 
wrote that the office was overstocked with material 
of that kind. Then other people had written 
stories about babies, had they ? Their stories had 
been accepted, too. She was glad that the stories 
sent by the other people had not been returned to 
them in order to break their hearts. 

It grew dark. The mother began to feel cold. 
She had no coal. She had no wood. There was 
some oil left in the lamp, however. By and by she 
found a match and, lighting the lamp, she placed 
it near the window and knelt on the floor beside it. 
She did not know that the window was open. She 
did not know that it was beginning to rain. She 
only knew that her story — the story of her baby — 
had been rejected. The night wind blew in through 
the open window and cooled the mother’s burning 
cheeks. The window curtains flapped about her as 
though shaken by invisible hands. After a time, a 
gust of wind blew the curtains over the lamp. 
The flame darted at the curtains and leaped with 
joy as it multiplied faster and faster. Now the 
mother felt warm ! An angel must have brought 
her a fire, and she smiled her thanks to some people 


REJECTED, 


1 7 


who were looking at her from the street. 

The curtains flapped about her in sheets of flame. 
What could the people in the street be looking at? 
She felt warm and she was happy — so happy — for 
did she not see her baby beckoning to her ? She 
would go to him and tell him how the story had 
been rejected; he would understand. She would 
not go out by the front door for there were people 
there and they seemed to be trying to get into the 
house. Why did they wish to disturb her ? She 
would go out by the back way. Her baby was still 
beckoning to her — she would have to make haste. 

The mother hastened out into the garden. Her 
little one had loved flowers and she stopped a mo- 
ment to gather some for him. Still the baby beck- 
oned and she followed and followed until she 
reached him; then, casting the flowers at his feet, 
she sank to the ground. 

In the morning they found her — a charred mass 
— upon her baby’s grave. The story of her little 
one was soon published by the paper which had 
rejected it. The loss of her life had made it 
available. 



A Tale of Alternate Transmigration. 



^CE upon a lime — in fact, it was so long ago 
that I forget the exact year in which the 
event occurred — there existed a domestic king and 
queen who had reared their son and only child in 
luxury and idleness. He was a badly spoiled — or, 
rather, he was a perfectly spoiled young prince and 
was as cross and as disobliging as one could pos- 
sibly wish. At the same time, there existed a for- 
eign king and queen five miles away, who were 
endeavoring to rear a daughter by the same process 
as that utilized by the domestic king and queen, 
and the former met with the same irritating success 
as did their royal neighbors. 

It was an established fact that the domestic prince 
and the foreign princess were to be made man and 
wife diredlly they arrived at years of discretion, 
and, in preparation for the event, the astrologers of 


Alternate Transmigration. 


1 9 


both courts had wisely declared unto their respec- 
tive lieges, that the domestic prince and the foreign 
princess would achieve that state at precisely the 
same minute, hour, day, month and year, — which 
declaration caused great rejoicing at both courts. 
There was one trouble. As long as the domestic 
prince and the foreign princess continued fair in 
face and ugly in temper, there would be no arriving 
at years of discretion for either of them, and how 
to remedy this little difficulty was made the prin- 
cipal riddle of the hour. 

The queens of both courts were frequently para- 
lyzed with grief for days and days on account of the 
willfulness of their offspring, while the kings of both 
courts were frequently paralyzed with stimulants 
for the same length of time and — it is to be hoped — > 
for the same reason; and, during such lapses from 
holding the reins of their respective governments, 
both kings were usually to be found lying some- 
where in one kingdom, while the two queens were 
crying somewhere in the other. In the meantime, 
the domestic prince and the foreign princess, being 
thrown entirely upon their own resources, would 
engage themselves in bickering and quarreling with 
each other and, when tired of such child’s play, 
they invariably occupied their royal leisure in en- 
deavoring to maim or disfigure one another, which 
generally had the result of throwing both kings 


20 


Alternate Transmigration. 


and queens into a relapse, — thereby allowing the 
domestic prince and the foreign princess to con- 
tinue their little game unmolested. It was not well 
for them to carry on thus, especially as they would 
eventually inherit both thrones, and, as they had 
no other playmates, — (little dukes and duchesses 
apparent were not considered fitting companions 
for them) — a fondness in each for the other was all 
the more to be desired. The populace, in the in- 
terim, prayed incessantly that the then-existing 
reigners might continue to reign indefinitely. 

Strangely enough, the birthday of the domestic 
prince and the birthday of the foreign princess had 
occurred upon the same date, and, whenever that 
mutual feast-day came around, they were accus- 
tomed and forced to exchange tokens of esteem. 
On their nineteenth mutual birthday, the domestic 
prince sent the foreign princess a dumb and por- 
table piano, with a message to the effect that if she 
played on it and gave up her other piano, the 
populace would soon grow to love her for herself 
alone and not because it was their duty. ‘ ‘ The hate- 
ful thing!” she exclaimed. It was well she said it, 
as it balanced a somewhat stronger remark uttered 
at the same instant by the domestic prince on be- 
holding her gift to him, — a golden rattle, on the 
handle of which was inscribed in diamonds: “All 
work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” 


Alternate Transmigration. 


21 


The domestic prince thereupon reported to his 
parents an accurate description of the royal gift 
just tendered him, — he was a truthful little chap — 
while, at the same time, the foreign princess was 
going through a similar performance — she was not 
to be outdone by the prince in point of truthful- 
ness. Immediately an intermittent correspond- 
ence .sprang up between king and queen of each 
court. They wrote to one another semi-daily and 
visited each other hemi-demi-seini-occasionally for 
the purpose of inventing some plan by means of 
which their darlings might be forced to love one 
another. Many methods were tested and much 
advice was listened to upon the subject, but all 
experiments resulted in dismally complete failures. 
The prince and princess were forced to associate for 
weeks; then they were allowed to remain away 
from one another for days; then they were obliged 
to visit each other every other day; then once a 
week; then every day but Sunday — and, finally, on 
Sundays only. They were asked, implored and 
forbidden to maim each other, but to no purpose. 
They continued to maim, chastise and otherwise 
discommode one another, until both kingdoms were 
in an uproar, and the engagement was about to be 
declared off, when a message was simultaneously 
delivered at both courts with great pomp and 
despatch. 


22 


Ai/tkrnatk Transmigration. 


The message read to the effect that one How-de- 
do, — fashionable magician from the town of Afar — 
would condescend to take the wayward cherubs in 
hand, and, if allowed one year, he would guarantee 
to counteract their mutual animosity to such a 
pitch that they would not only be willing, but wild 
to marry each other. This matter furnished the 
four parents with food for thought for an indefinite 
length of time, but the food finally gave out and 
they then decided that it would be as well to give 
the magician and their children a trial. They gave 
the magician a private audience, listened to his 
plans, and commanded him to commence his per- 
formance without delay. 

The magician then drew a market-basket forth 
from his pocket-handkerchief, broke it up into four 
small baskets, and handed one to each parent. 
“They contain directions for preparing your off- 
spring for the inevitable ordeal,’’ — he said, directly 
after which he turned himself into a banjo and van- 
ished. The parents studied the directions found in 
the baskets until they had committed them to 
memory, whereupon the baskets and directions 
became pelicans and flew away. 

On the morning of their twentieth birthday, the 
prince and princess were carefully dressed in their 
Sunday clothes, and the prince drove over to con- 
gratulate the princess, — it was his week to drive 


Alternate Transmigration. 


23 


over. They were thereupon sent out to walk upon 
the paths surrounding the palace, and were inci- 
dentally requested not to tread upon the emerald 
sward. Having been cautioned against treading 
upon the emerald sward, the truthful pair became 
filled with a desire to discover why they should 
not, and, accordingly, when they had walked about 
a block and a half down the path and considered 
themselves out of sight and mind, with one accord, 
the domestic prince and the foreign princess stepped 
upon it. No sooner had they done so, then the 
emerald sward opened and they casually dropped a 
mile or so into the “vowels” of the earth, as a 
bright child, who was extant at that time, was 
heard to observe in giving his version of the affair. 
A proclamation was then issued and distributed 
gratuitously throughout both kingdoms. It con- 
tained the exclusive information that the domestic 
prince and the foreign princess had gone to make a 
protracted visit on somebody’s distant aunt. 

The populace of both kingdoms wept — for joy. 



H 


Alternate Transmigration 


II. 



RRIVING at the end of their descent, the 


prince and the princess rose from their sev- 


eral knees upon which they found themselves, and 
looked about them. They saw that they were in a 
spacious cavern. “I will not describe it It was 


roomy. At one end of the cavern sat the magician, 
toying nonchalantly with a tliree-headed ebony cat. 
Slowly raising his eye-brows, the magician turned 


untarily fallen into his presence. “Separate!” — 


broken beauty of the scene with mingled fright 


out having moved, the prince and princess suddenly 
found themselves some distance apart. How they 
became so, they did not know at the time nor have 
they learned since, but it does not matter. Suffice 
it to say that it was so. 


just like all other spacious caverns — large and very 


his eledtrid eyes full Upon the pair who had invol- 


he cried; for the prince and princess were unwit- 
tingly standing side by side, surveying the inl- 


and curiosity. “Separate!” — he cried; and, with- 


Alternate Transmigration. 


25 


“Neither of you will be able to utter a sound, 
nor can you move while I am speaking to you, so 
you need not try,” — crooned the magician in a 
cheery manner. The prince and princess endeav- 
ored to speak and move, however, and discovered 
that the magician, like themselves, was given to 
reciting nothing inaccurately. The magician then 
brightened up the countenances of the pair before 
him by a glance from his eyes, and continued as 
follows: “You are to be cured of a mutual ani- 

mosity. I have puzzled over the matter for a long 
time and have finally constructed a solution to it. 
I find that I cannot change your minds directly, 
but I can alter your bodies; your minds will then 
conform to to your metamorphosed bodies, which 
will amount to the same thing in the end. My 
plan is to make you devoted to each other. As 
human beings you are not so. There is nothing 
left but for me to alter you in such a manner that 
you cannot help but be devoted to one another. I 
have studied priceless books upon the subject and 
have arrived at the following conclusion; — one of 
you must become a horse or a dog. ’ ’ 

A high bred look of disgust and disdain crept 
over the plastic faces of the listeners, but the ma- 
gician went on just as though nothing of the sort 
had occurred. 

“The horse and the dog are mankind’s most 


26 


Alternate Transmigration. 


faithful attendants, next to women ; but, as it 
would be extremely inconvenient for either of you 
to take sufficient care of a horse, I think it best to 
banish such an idea,” — and, raising his scalp, which 
opened like the cover of a box, the magician thrust 
his disengaged hand into the top of his skull, and, 
having displaced part of his brain, he succeeded in 
securing the idea about the horse and removed it ; 
then, re-arranging his brain to suit his intended 
programme for the day, he allowed his scalp to 
snap back into place. Taking the idea about the 
horse, he placed it upon a tiny elevator, whereupon 
it was hoisted up to the outer air and speedily for- 
gotten. 

Turning to his select and horrified audience, the 
magician drew two tiny whips from one of his 
sleeves. Advancing toward the prince and prin- 
cess, he handed each a whip, and said: — “I have 
attained the following result, — one of you must 
become a dog !” Stepping up to the prince, the 
magician struck him a happy blow upon the head 
and cried, — “ It is now one o’clock. Become a 
dog !” The prince became a dog — a Newfoundland 
one — and the princess became released from her 
perilous silence. ‘‘Beat him!” said the magician 
cordially to the princess. The princess oblig- 
ingly beat the dog, who cowered and licked her 
hand. “To-morrow, at one o’clock, the prince 


Alternate Transmigration. 


27 


will become himself again, and you will become a 
dog,” said the magician encouragingly to the 
princess, who bit her lip and smiled sweetly in an- 
ticipation of the event. “I’ll bite him !” thought 
she. 

Then the magician proceeded to foretell a little 
of the charmed life which they were about to lead. 

“Every day at one o’clock,” he said, “whichever 
one of you is a dog, shall become his or her former 
human self, and whichever one of you is enjoying 
human form, shall become a dog. The one in human 
form will always have one of the whips which I have 
given you ; the one in canine form will have his or 
her whip secured about his or her neck, in the form 
of an irremovable collar interlarded with spikes. 
The one who is in human form will always be at 
liberty to beat the one who is a dog unmercifully, 
but bear in mind that the dog can remember such 
an incident, and when he or she becomes a human 
being, he or she can wreak as much vengeance 
upon the beater as he or she pleases.” So saying, 
the magician became a tree, the spacious cavern 
became a fenced-in garden around the tree, and 
the princess and be-collared Newfoundland dog 
became the only living occupants of the fenced-in 
garden. 

The princess could not climb the fence, although 
she tried to do so; neither could the dog. There 


Alternate Transmigration. 


28 


-rO . 


was no help for it, — they were fenced into the 
quiet, rural spot, and there they would have to re- 
main. It never grew dark, nor did the princess 
ever grow sleepy. “We are going to be starved,” 
thought the princess, but as neither she nor the 
dog ever became hungry, they were not starved. 

At one o’clock the next day, without a word of 
warning, the princess became a dog — a bulldog — 
and the Newfoundland dog became a prince ; and 
the prince and the bull-dog, like the princess and 
the Newfoundland dog, grew neither sleepy nor 
hungry, nor did the daylight fade. They would 
not have known one day from another had not a 
perpetual calendar, with clock attachment, ap- 
peared upon the trunk of the tree shortly after the 
commencement of their mutual animosity cure. 

When the prince tried to climb the fence, the 
bull-dog drew him back and partook freely of a 
merciless beating in consequence ; but the day after 
the princess retaliated by beating and cuffing the 
Newfoundland dog until he howled with pain. 

The weeks passed by and the human being 
and the dog soon saw that night, hunger and sleep 
were all to be denied them. They were to 
live in one continuous day until the magician 
should see fit to change his taclics. No opportu- 
nity for communicating with each other was af- 
forded them, as their transformations were consum- 


Alternate Transmigration. 


29 


mated at the same instant, and neither of the dogs 
was gifted with the power of speech. 

Each do*g soon grew ardently attached to his 
mistress, or her master (whichever it was) as all 
dogs will ; and it was not long before either dog 
would have gone through fire and water for his mis- 
tress, or her master ; but, as there was neither fire 
nor water upon the premises, such a feat was abso- 
lutely impossible ; and, as each dog regained his 
or her human form, all such feelings would gener- 
ally vanish, though they would not vanish as com- 
pletely as they had done during the first month of 
the test. So the months went by, one after another, 
and, at the end of six of them, the tree turned into 
the magician, the ground inside of th£ fence disap- 
peared, and the magician, the prince and the bull- 
dog dropped into the spacious cavern before 
described. 



30 


Alternate: Transmigration. 


III. 

S the prince and bull-dog struck the tiled 
floor of the cavern, the bull-dog became the 
princess, and the prince remained himself. The 
prince had grown a "beard and moustache on his 
off-days from being a dog, and had acquired that 
perfection of manly beauty so common in princes 
years ago. 

The magician eyed the prince and princess elec- 
trically, and with a marked falter in his speech, 
said: “Do you love each other?” “As dogs, 
yes!” vouchsafed the truthful pair. “Then your 
trial is not yet complete !” answered the magician, 
drily, upon hearing which the prince and princess 
became filled with vague presentiments, and, with 
one accord, they sprang upon the magician and 
began to tear out handful after handful of his 
luxuriant beard, notwithstanding which the ma- 
gician remained inexorable, and the self-imposed 
task of the prince and princess became thankless, 
for the luxuriant beard, upon which they were so 


Alternate Transmigration. 


o 


i 


diligently working, only grew in again as quickly 
as it was withdrawn. The truthful pair therefore 
decided that it behooved them to adopt another 
plan of action, but before they could originate one, 
the magician cried: “Away!” and they immedi- 
ately found themselves away at a distance from him 
of seven feet. 

“You are not toned down yet,” moaned the ma- 
gician wearily and, deftly knocking the prince 
down with a club, he exclaimed: “Become a 

dog!” and the prince at once resumed his canine 
semblance, the magician became the tree, clock 
and calendar combined, the spacious cavern be- 
came the fenced-in garden, and the princess and 
Newfoundland dog became prisoners therein, as 
formerly. 

The weeks moved on more slowly than ever. 
Perpetual daylight, lack of society and sleepless 
existence were becoming monotonous and unbear- 
able. The prince longed for some one to whom he 
might talk and, when it became the bull-dog’s turn 
to be a princess, she, too, mourned the lack of 
society that was afforded her. She had even grown 
to love the Newfoundland dog and had ceased to 
beat him. She wondered whether she could not 
love him if he became a man, and concluded that 
such a calamity was not impossible. The prince 
fostered similar thoughts concerning the princess 


32 


A I/I'KRNA T K 'I' R ANSMIGR ATION. 


and eventually came to the conclusion that, rather 
than live with the bull-dog all his life, he would 
certainly prefer to marry the princess, and, utterly 
broken in spirit, he one day cried aloud, “I wish 
I could tell her that I will make an attempt, to love 
her.” The bull-dog licked his hand. 

Five minutes later there was a crash. The tree, 
clock and calendar combined, disappeared and, in 
their stead, appeared a huge writing desk, fully 
equipped with stationery in its widest sense. On 
top of the desk, fixed and immovable, were a small 
clock and a tiny calendar. 

Then began a ceaseless correspondence. One day 
the prince would write an account of his trials, 
troubles and tribulations at great length ; the 
next day the princess would read them, after which 
she would write answers to his various questions, 
ask some on her own account, to be answered by him 
upon the morrow, and relate an adequate descrip- 
tion of her own woes and griefs. Each felt that 
wedded life could not be more terrible than their 
forced imprisonment, during the continuation of 
which they could not possibly have more than a 
one-sided squabble. They tried to summon the 
magician by pounding upon the writing desk and 
calling him, but evidently that was not the way to 
get him, for he did not appear. The prince and 
princess continued to correspond regularly every 


Alternate Transmigration. 33 

other day, and both gradually grew more and 
more desirous of seeing each other in simultaneous 
human form again. 

Six months from the time of their last descent 
into the spacious cavern brought them to the eve of 
their joint twenty-first birthday, and again, without 
warning, they dropped into the presence of their 
enchanter ; and, as before, the one who was a dog 
at the time became a human being, while the one 
who was in human form remained so. 

“ Do 3 r ou love one another ?” asked the magiciau 
in doubtful anticipation. “We do!’,’ exclaimed 
the prince and princess, in the same breath horror- 
stricken for fear that he might not believe them. 

‘ ‘In that case, ’ ’ said the magician, turning his electric 
orbs upon them, “ my plan has worked to a charm, 
and at twelve o’clock to-night, at the moment you 
become twenty-one years old apiece, you will both 
arrive at years of discretion. From that instant 
my power over you will cease, excepting through 
the medium of your whips. You will each retain 
your whip and mark the words which I am 
about to utter : If either of you should become 
angry with the other, you have only to strike him 
or her with your whip and, for twenty-four hours, 
he or she will become a dog, as formerly but in 
order to curtail any undue demonstrations of such a 
nature, bear in mind that the one who causes the 


34 


Alternate Transmigration. 


other to become a dog for a day, will himself or 
herself become a dog for the day following the re- 

9 

turn to human form of the one who was first caused 
to be a dog. On that account, I do not think you 
will strike one another, as neither of you will care 
to become a dog yourself after the punishment you 
have meted out to the other has been consum- 
mated. Another thing ! Should either of you seek 
to destroy, hide, or otherwise make way with the 
whip of the other, that person will become a dog 
for the remainder of his or her natural life. After 
these painful revelations, are you still anxious to 
marry?” “We are!” exclaimed the prince and 
princess, of their own free wills. “Very well,” 
answered the magician. “ I have telephoned the 
particulars of this accident to your parents, and you 
will be wedded at noon to-morrow.” “I have 
nothing to wear,” gasped the princess, effeminately. 
“They are at work on your trousseau now,” re- 
torted the magician. “ The guests have been sum- 
moned, the presents have been received and 
receipted for, the cake has been baked, and you 
are both supposed to have come to your senses at 
your aunt’s in the country. Au revoir /” 

The clock struck twelve. The magician and 
spacious cavern faded away, and the prince and 
princess found themselves waking in their respec- 
tive kingdoms on the morning of their joint 


Alternate Transmigration. 


35 

twenty-first birthday. “It must have been a 
dream !’ ' was the simultaneous mental ejaculation 
of the prince and princess, in reference to their 
escapade just ended; but a tiny whip, bound 
tightly around the arm of each, disproved that idea 
beyond a doubt. 

There was great rejoicing at both courts over the 
success of the experiment, and the populace en- 
thused over the change of affairs at a great rate. As 
the magician had prophesied, the prince and prin- 
cess were married at noon — thus giving each other 
themselves as a birthday gift, for they had no time 
to purchase anything which might have proved 
more acceptable. “ We have lost a year and gained 
a lifetime,” was their mutual exclamation ; so they 
evidently did not object so much to the marriage 
as one would have supposed. 

As for the magician, he came along later in the 
day. The king and queen of each court gave him 
a private audience in the kitchen of the palace of 
the parents of the bride, not daring to allow him 
upstairs for fear it might slip out as to who he was 
and what his efforts had resulted in. The four 
parents filled his inexhaustible hat with gold and 
gave him a pair of champing steeds, which champed 
so noisily that the parents requested the magician 
to favor them with his absence before the guests 
should inquire into the cause of the disturbance. 


36 


Alternate Transmigration. 


Accordingly, the magician boarded the chariot at- 
tached to the champing steeds, and they ran away 
with him to a distant land, where he found that his 
fame had preceded him. He went into the trick 
business and soon became the very Adelina Patti of 
magicians, asking $10,000 for every exhibition. As 
he never received that amount, he never gave an 
exhibition, for his vanity prevented him from ac- 
cepting a cent less, — still he appeared satisfied and 
lived for several centuries with ease and equan- 
imity, — and, whenever a desire to maim one an- 
other came over the prince and princess, each 
thought of the whip which the other had in readi- 
ness to punish any such outburst, and they were 
thus enabled to lead a pair of blameless lives, and 
to live and die in the usual fairy -story fashion. 

See what a glorious thing it is for one to have the 
power not only to curb one’s own temper, but also 
to possess the means by which one may curb the 
temper of another! 



6 


The Autobiography of a Coffin. 


the tender age of not more than ten min 


utes, I was borne into a large room and placed 


carefully upon a table. It was not long before I 
recognized the fact that I was not alone, — there 
were a great many others in the room, my exact 
counterparts in shape, although different in style, 
color and general make-up. I possessed a fiery-red 
exterior, a grass-green interior, silver handles and 
silver plates, on account of which I considered my- 
self to be quite a gay and festive affair. I remem- 
ber all this distinctly, for, a few minutes later, I 
learned from my associates that I was known as 
a coffin and that I was going to be buried, so I 
summed up my general excellence at once and won- 
dered why such an ornament as myself had been 
created only to be speedily obliterated and hid from 
the admiring gaze of hundreds who I felt would or 
should view me with envious eyes. 



38 The: Autobiography of a Coffin. 


But alas! (or rather, hurrah!) I had one fault. I 
never could make out exactly what it w r as, but it 
kept me from being buried, so I considered it a 
nice thing to have around. Every family to whom 
I v 7 as sent promptly returned me with the informa- 
tion that my looks were against me, — that I con- 
tained a flaw. Many improvements w T ere made in 
my appearance, but in vain, — people simply w T ould 
not utilize me, until one day (never shall I forget 
it!) a young man entered the undertaker shop 
where I was living, and nervously asked to see the 
latest thing in coffins. 

“What is the length of the corpse?” inquired 
the undertaker. “ Five feet,” w T as the ready reply, 
“but he isn't a corpse yet, lie’s only going to be 
one.” “How is that?” asked the undertaker, 
much interested, and the young man, as though 
waiting for a question of that sort, seated himself 
comfortably upon a bier, and told his story as fol- 
lows: — 

“The man is a friend of mine and he w r ants to 
know how much money will be left after his fu- 
neral expenses are paid, so he started me out on a 
shopping expedition, and I have been pricing ready- 
made mourning dresses, crape, coffins, monuments 
and cemetery lots all day. I have succeeded in 
purchasing a job lot of crape for the w T ife, and have 
secured the lease of two choice graves for ninety- 


Thp Autobiography op a Coffin. 


39 


nine years, — one for the future corpse, the other for 
the wife, who is in excellent health at present, but 
the future corpse thought that I might be able to 
purchase two graves at wholesale rates, and I have 
succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. I discovered 
a plot containing ten graves, nine of them being 
occupied. It had been bought by a family who 
had arranged that the plot should be large enough 
to hold them all — when dead. Little by little, the 
family has stopped living until now there is but one 
left, and that one is at present taking the place of 
the Chinese Giant in a dime museum. He is so tall 
that there is no room for him in the plot, much less 
in the grave alotted to him, in consequence of which 
he has permitted me, for a trifling amount, to lease 
the extra grave for the future corpse. 

The wife’s grave is quite a distance from that of 
her husband and will necessitate the placing of a 
figure upon the husband’s monument in such away 
that, by means of a mechanical contrivance, it will 
indicate the whereabouts of the wife’s grave at iir 
tervals of thirty seconds. The wife’s grave was 
dug for the pet dog of a wealthy widow, but before 
the burial could take place a suitor appeared, where- 
upon the pet dog was unostentatiously despatched 
to a neighboring glue- factory, and the grave has 
been lying idle ever since. It is not quite lengthy 
enough for the wife, but, by placing her in it slanto- 


The: Autobiography op a Coffin. 



diagonally, she can rest securely, and I do not think 
she will wobble. The coffin is bothering me now. 
Could I purchase two second-hand coffins propor- 
tionately cheaper than if I were purchasing only 
one ? ” 

The undertaker replied that he might allow a 
little something by way of a discount in return for 
the young man’s kindness in relating the details of 
the case, at which the young man began to exam- 
ine some of my associates, meanwhile chatting with 
the undertaker in an affable and inquisitive man- 
ner. During a pause in the search for his friend’s 
summer outfit, the young man said, “ Why do they 
call you an undertaker? Do you undertake any- 
thing besides corpses ?” “We undertake to do 
pinking,” replied the undertaker cheerfully, as he 
pointed to a sign in the window which read to that 
effect. 

The young man eventually selected me for the 
wife’s final habitation, and one of my worn-out 
relatives for the ensconcement of the husband. My 
worn-out relative was chosen because the husband 
expected to die at once, while I was selected on ac- 
count of my appearance, as there was no way of 
finding out at what time the wife would be obliged 
to occupy me and, then again, the young man 
thought that green and red would be cheerful col- 
ors for her to look at, in case she should spend 


The Autobiography of a Coffin. 


41 


much time in dying. 

The young man ordered the name and date of 
birth of the husband to be engraved upon the plate 
of my worn-out relative, while the wife’s name and 
date of birth were to be engraved upon my plate, — 
and a space was to be left upon each plate for the 
date of death. The next day would be the hus- 
band’s birthday and he was very anxious to die on 
that day in order to make a single date suffice for 
both his birth and death. 

Having requested that my relative and myself be 
sent C. O. D., and having thanked the undertaker 
for his kindness, the young man departed; direCtly 
after which, my relative and I were hastily huddled 
together into a black vehicle, and severely jolted 
and jostled over a very uneven road; then we were 
removed from the black vehicle, and, having been 
carried through a pretty garden to the basement of 
a large house, we were received and paid for, — after 
which we were taken upstairs to be inspected by 
the future corpse and his wife. 

We were ushered into a spacious room, where lay 
an old man — evidently the dying one. At the sight 
of my relative, his eyes gleamed with satisfaction; 
but, on seeing me, the gleam changed to one of 
anger. 

“Do you take me for a millionaire ? ” he cried, 
to a person standing beside him, and whom I at 


42 


The Autobiography oe a Coefin. 


once recognized as the young man who had bought 
me. The young man assured him that I was a 
great bargain, and that he had procured me at job 
lot prices, at which the old man seemed satisfied, 
and, turning to his wife who appeared to be a happy 
little body, he indicated me and said, “ That is 
your coffin, madam. Take it ! I give it to you with- 
out reserve. I bid you use it and no other when 
you die. About that monument, Charles, I suppose 
you know that the one over my grave will do for 
my wife, and you can have her name put on it now 
in order to save the trouble and extra expense of 
having it done later.” “ Henry ! ” exclaimed the 
wife indignantly, ” I will not have my present name 
put upon that monument, for the simple reason 
that — that it may not be my name when I die; and, 
if I should change my present name, I would have 
to have it put upon some one else’s monument. 
You do not know how attractive a widow is to many 
in .” But the future corpse had fainted. 

When he came to, there was a scene. I have not 
the gift of describing scenes, but, if I had, I never 
could describe that one. The husband, feeling that 
the crape, grave, ready-made mourning dress and 
coffin which he had so generously donated to his 
spouse were to be used as bait for an unwary mor- 
tal, hurled choice imprecations at the offender by 
the mouthful. To think that she should dream of 


The Autobiography of a Coffin. 


43 


another husband after he had just supplied her with 
conveniences for her death. It was maddening — it 
was an outrage, and it seemed for a time as if the 
old man would actually get well, so great was his 
desire to restrain anyone but his wife from possess- 
ing the coffin, the grave, the ready-made mourning 
dress, and the other little funereal accessories which 
he had provided in such a munificent planner. 
Then the physician arrived and the old man’s 
thoughts were turned into a new channel. 

“Doctor! ” he murmured convulsively, “ I wish 
you to do me a favor. The undertakers charge so 
much for a hearse, that I have made arrangements 
to have an express wagon stop for me when I am 
dead, and remove me to the cemetery. The express 
man has orders to call to-morrow (my birthday) at 
ten o’clock, and, if I am not ready, he is to call every 
morning at the same time until I am in a condition 
to undergo the trip. The expressmen charge by 
the pound, you know, and, as my head, neck and 
hands are all that will show when I am in the coffin, 
will you take the rest of me in payment for your 
bill, and sell it to some medical college? By doing 
so, you will not only take a load from my mind, 
but you will also take a weight from the express 
wagon, and I will go much cheaper.” The physi- 
cian inconsiderately refused to comply with the 
old man’s wishes and, fretting about the ingratitude 


44 


Thk Autobiography of a Coffin. 


of human beings in general, and of physicians in 
particular, the old man died soon afterward of a 
broken heart, thereby forcing his wife to pay a little 
extra in order to have another date engraved upon 
my relative’s plate, for the old man died a few 
hours before his birthday. 

According to contract, the express man called at 
ten the next morning, and the old man was ready. 
My relative bade me a fond adieu, and, fully occu- 
pied by the old man, it was carried out of the house 
and placed among the trunks, boxes and barrels 
which nearly filled the wagon. I was standing 
near a window where I could see the entire pro- 
ceeding. When all was ready, the widow grace- 
fully ascended to the seat beside the driver, and my 
relative was driven away to be buried in the freak's 
out-grown-and-cast-off grave,. The next day I 
heard the servants tell how the expressman had at- 
tended to his numerous duties and deliveries on his 
way to the cemetery so that, by the time my relative 
was buried, having almost exhausted the hour-and- 
a-half bargained for by the late old man and him- 
self, he had driven the widow home at a furious 
gallop. It must have been so, for she seemed wor- 
ried on her return, and her expression was not at 
all a pleasant one until she had finished counting 
her post-mortem dowry. 

Then she sent for an upholsterer and had my lid 


The Autobiography of a Coffin. 


45 


fastened to me by means of hinges, and a padlock 
was added to my stock of jewelry. For some time 
I was used as a money-chest and work-basket com- 
bined, — then the money was transferred to a large 
tin box, whereupon some hooks were hammered 
into my back and, having been stood on end, I was 
used as a wardrobe until the moths got into me ; 
after which I was thoroughly cleaned and used as a 
silver chest. 

About that time I began to show signs of age, — 
the wear and tear of my checkered existence had 
left many traces upon me, and the widow called in 
a friend to consult with her about my future. 

“It has gotten into such a state that I would 
never want to be buried in it,” remarked the widow 
to her friend; “why I wouldn’t even want to be 
found dead in it, — and a new one, when necessary, 
will cost less in the end than to have this one reno- 
vated every two or three years until it is wanted.” 
So she went on, and it was finally decided that the 
widow and I were to part. I was delighted at the 
prospect, for I never had liked the idea of going to 
that small dog’s grave, where I would be fitted so 
securely that I could not turn over, in case an occa- 
sion should arise where it might become necessary 
for me to indulge in such an acrobatic performance. 

The widow tried to sell me to my original owner, 
the undertaker, but he refused to take back goods 


46 The Autobiography of a Coffin. 

that liad been either worn or damaged; so, having 
removed my lid, silver plates and handles for future 
use upon my successor, the widow had me placed 
in the garden where I was filled with earth and 
forget-me-nots. 

I remained disguised as a portable flower-bed for 
several years, when the widow’s former prediction 
came true, — she changed her name. 

The house was closed up. I was alone. 

Some time afterwards, another family moved into 
the house. It was in the winter time, when my 
contents consisted of nothing but earth, roots, and 
dead leaves. The family comprised a father, a 
mother and seven children. The latter explored 
everything upon the premises at their earliest op- 
portunity, and were not long in discovering that I 
was no ordinary flower-bed. The parents were 
summoned from the house. I was inspected and a 
consultation w~as held, which resulted in my con- 
tents being shoveled and dumped out; after which 
I was thoroughly cleansed, my cracks were stopped 
up with putty, and then, O, then — the disgrace of it 
makes me shudder ! — I was once more installed in 
the house, but not as a money chest, not as a work 
basket, not as a wardrobe, nor even as a coal scuttle, 
but in the capacity of — a bath-tub. 

However, my disgrace did not last long. My ex- 
posure to the elements had taken away my strength 


This Autobiography of a Coffin. 


47 


and I felt that I could not keep up much longer, — 
nor did I. Soon it became necessary for me to be 
nailed together every time a child took a bath, and 
finally, when a member of the family desired to 
bathe, it became necessary for the entire remaining 
members to sit around me blindfolded and to hold 
my weary boards in place; but such a state of things 
could not go on forever and, one day, a board that 
had been relied upon to stand alone gave way, and 
my liquid contents hastily deluged and inundated 
the blindfolded circle, while the bather, with his 
little eyes full of soap and no water at hand with 
which to wash it out, screamed lustily for his blind- 
folded mother. That was the last straw r and, in 
consequence, I was relegated to the garret. 

Last week, the seven children took me out and 
tried to use me on the pond as a boat, but I was too 
heavy-hearted to float and, as there is to be a cele- 
bration in the town to-morrow, the children have 
obtained their parents’ permission to add my car- 
case to a bon-fire which is to be prepared in honor 
of the event. 

Farewell, sweet earth! I am to die to-morrow. 
Still, death by fire is much more preferable to being 
smothered slanto-diagonally in a small dog’s grave, 
where even wobbling might be an inconvenient 
luxury. Farewell ! 


A COMPOSITE SCHEME. 


KNOWITALL shrieked. A canary 
sang merrily in a wicker cage. The 
twitter of a sparrow was wafted into the room 
through the open window. Some children in the 
busy street were singing tunefully. Notwithstand- 
ing all this, however, Mine. Knowitall continued 
to shriek. When not busily engaged in shrieking, 
she contented herself with merely screeching, 
howling and yelling. Not .satisfied with nature’s 
music, Mine. Knowitall was undertaking to manu- 
facture some for herself and it suited no one but 
herself. Nature had said that Mine. Knowitall 
should not sing, on account of which nothing was 
left for the poor thing to do but to shriek, yell, 
screech, etc., and the worst of it was that she in- 
sisted on doing what she could to the utmost of her 
ability. 


A COMPOSITE SCHEME. 


49 


Mine. Knowitall was tall, stout, dark, and last, 
but by no means least, she was an ear-splitting 
soprano, who loved grand opera and delighted to 
let people around the corner know all about the 
fates, woes, trials and tribulations of Vaselina 
Awfulfatsky and Benzolino Altogetliertoothinovitclq 
or some such people. The “Bell Song” from 
“ Lakme, ” “ Die Goetterdaemmerung,’ , and 

“Chained at Last” were murdered with equal 
ease by the soprano, and she seemed to have no 
difficulty whatever in damaging the consecutive- 
ness of a scale, roulade or trill, — no matter of what 
length, compass or thickness. There was a gem 
sung by her hourly in description of some unknown 
hero, who, to judge from the song, was evidently 
hurrying a fractious mule to an untimely end ; in 
deference to which song, the other Flatites, occupy- 
ing the same building, had nicknamed the so- 
prano “The Musical Mule,” and the voice that 
stirred up hatred, malice and other uncharitable 
things in the hearts of the neighbors was not unlike 
that of a Musical Mule, supposing, for a moment, 
that a mule, amongst other well-known endow- 
ments, could find the necessary space for such a 
p-ift 

The voice in question was extremely harsh, not 
to say discordant; some of the neighbors concluded 
that it was also freckled, while one irreverent per- 


50 


A COMPOSITE SCHEME. 


son suggested that perhaps it came to light through 
a labyrinth of warts. Be that as it may, the sum- 
mer was now at hand, in consequence of which the 
Musical Mule had opened her parlor window and 
was pouring her notes out upon the neighboring 
populace, which feat caused the populace to pray 
that the Musical Mule’s voice might be either per- 
fected or destroyed — with the majority in favor of its 
destruction ; but anything in place of the harrow- 
ing suspense of its usual state of health, would 
have been acceptable. 

The other Flatites finally rebelled and insisted 
upon having the Musical Mule’s vocal gymnastics 
extinguished. In vain they asked that she be po- 
litely forced to quit either the singing or the prem- 
ises. The landlord would not listen to them, for the 
soprano paid her rent promptly and gave him no 
trouble whatever, which peculiarities were neither 
customs nor habits of the other Flatites. Not wish- 
ing to go where they might be obliged to pay rent 
frequently, the other Flatites decided to remain as 
they were and an indignation meeting was held in 
the flat of the two lame old maids, at which the 
other Flatites decided that the Musical Mule’s 
voice must be squelched at all hazards, — and, after 
much thought, plans were formulated, which were 
to be carried out at once. 


A COMPOSITE SCHEME. 


5i 


It was the following afternoon that the canary 
sang, the sparrow twittered, the children sang tune- 
fully and the soprano shrieked. 

“Tzwee! Tzwee ! Tzwee ! ” sang the canary. 

“Chee! Chee ! Chee ! ” twittered the sparrow. 

“ High C ! High C ! High C ! ” shrieked the 
Musical Mule. 

“Bang! Bang! Bang!” went the bell of the 
Musical Mule’s flat, and a note was handed in, to the 
effect that the nervous little woman occupying the 
flat above desired the presence of the soprano at 
once. 

The soprano went up stairs and discovered the 
nervous little woman entertaining Miss Sick Head- 
ache, who had called an hour or two before. The 
nervous little woman introduced the soprano to 
Miss Sick Headache who, since her arrival, had 
been rapidly growing into such a big girl, that the 
nervous little woman in alarm had sent for the 
soprano, presumably to stay with her until Miss 
Sick Headache should decide to take her departure. 

As a cold draught was journeying through the 
room, the soprano began to close the windows; but 
the nervous little woman objected to being so shut 
up, and the windows had to be opened again ; after 
which, she begged the soprano to drive Miss Sick 
Headache out of existence. The soprano was will- 
ing to try, and offered to sing, but the nervous little 


A COMPOSITE SCHEME. 


52 


woman feared that the Musical Mule’s soug, al- 
though capable of driving all else away, would ut- 
terly fail to cause Miss Sick Headache to budge; in 
fact, she was afraid that the song might cause the 
damsel to grow a foot. 

When the soprano left the nervous little woman 
an hour later, she was accompanied by a chill, oc- 
casioned by a prolonged contact with the draught. 
In her room she found a note from the two lame old 
maids in the flat below, asking her to go to them 
immediately. She went. Their windows and doors 
were opened in such a way that a draught of un- 
usual proportions flew about the Musical Mule’s 
immovable and only available chair. The soprano 
busied herself by sneezing in different keys, while 
the two lame old maids inquired as to whether it 
was true that she intended to move, whether the 
price of cats had gone up, and whether she would 
care to marry again providing that she got a chance. 

Shortly afterward, the Musical Mule ascended to 
her room all in a shiver and found an imperative 
summons to attend a gathering in the top flat. She 
went up. A children's party was in progress and 
the parents wished the Musical Mule to sing, in or- 
der that the little innocents might be amused. The 
Musical Mule thought it would be imprudent for 
her to sing as she had been catching cold all the 
afternoon. The parents would not take 110 for an 


a composite: scheme. 


53 


answer, however, and the Musical Mule, feeling 
that a condescension on her part might increase 
the contents of her purse, consented to oblige them. 

Before singing she was cajoled into allowing the 
little innocents to feed her with* home-made ice 
cream, until one of the darlings accidentally (?) 
dropped a piece of ice down her back, after 
which she was stationed in an extremely draughty 
place and requested to sing. She sang, or, rather, 
gave her well-known imitations of singing. Ter- 
rific applause forced her to sing encore after en- 
core. The little innocents were delighted. Never 
before had they heard such perfect parodies on a 
saw-filer at work, or a scissor-grinder in motion. 

When the soprano had become so hoarse that she 
could make no more sounds, she pocketed her fee 
and returned to her apartment in an exceedingly 
cool frame of mind and body, and there discovered 
a note from the family in the first flat, peremptor- 
ily demanding her presence. As the family in the 
first flat gave musicales at intervals, the Musical 
Mule hastened down, hoping to secure an engage- 
ment. Sure enough ! They wished her to try her 
voice that night, as the lady whom they had en- 
gaged would be unable to appear. Everything was 
in confusion. Windows and doors were wide open, 
and the place was being swept out in preparation 
for the performance While breathing in the 


54 


A COMPOSITE SCHEME. 


flakes of dust and bathing in a healthy relative of 
the aforesaid draughts, the Musical Mule made her 
arrangements as to the terms, etc. ; then she went 
to her room, where she was frequently interrupted 
and disturbed by several large families of chills. 

The Musical Mule neither sang that night nor 
the next day. She will neither sing next week, 
nor next month, year or centennial. Kindness and 
draughts have done what the landlord refused to 
do for the Musical Mule lost her voice, and forth- 
with quit both the singing and the premises. The 
other Flatites are avenged. 



PURGATORY. 

A STORY, by A. H. RAIDRAW, Jr. 

( Author of “How She Married Him ” and other Stories.) 

“Purgatory” is a quaint, touching little story in the form 
“of a pretty brochure. Purgatory is the odd but sufficiently 
“accounted for name of a charming little fellow whose father 
“has died in the boy’s infancy from lightning-stroke, and 
“whose mother is indirectly another victim of the elements. 
“He is adopted by a young man who is soon to be married, 
“and shows a precocious jealousy of the prospective bride, 
“but loses his own life in saving from a fire the cross given 
“her by their common friend and lover. For once dialect is 
‘delightful in the wise little fellow’s childish prattle.” 

The Brooklyn Eagle, Feb. 7, 1892. 

“This is the simple tale of a good man’s love for a little 
“child and is a masterpiece of its kind. It is gracefully and 
“touchingly told, and cannot fail to charm the reader. The 
“work shows a keenness of insight into and a comprehension 
“of the heart of child-life that give it a value far beyond the 
“mere interest as a tale. It will do 110 one harm to spend a 
“quiet hour with this little book.” 

The Evening Journal, Jersey City, Jan. 19 th, 1892. 

“ * * * * The tale is odd all the way through and 
“possesses every element of strong literary character and in- 
dependence of thought. I know of nothing more difficult 
“than the portrayal of the conduct of a child. We are fre- 
quently astonished at their strange intelligence and marvel- 
ous intuition, but the depiction of their peculiar and striking 
' ‘individualities is not readily achieved. Mr. I v aidlaw’s ‘ ‘ Pur- 
“gatory” is a splendid story. I read it through without taking 
“my thoughts off the unique, but sad little hero. I enjoyed it 
“more than anything that has been printed lately. It strikes 
“me as an uncommonly artistic piece of story-building, upon 
“a theme that is for more delicate than that which commonly 
“captures the eye of the youthful novelist. ****’’ 

Tne Tempest, Jersey City, Feb. 26, 1892. 

“Purgatory” is the peculiar name of a pretty, pathetic 
“little tale written by A. H. Raidlaw, Jr. and published by 
“Dickson & Raidlaw, 733 Sixth Avenue, New York. It is a 
“dainty little affair of 32 pages and would make a most ex- 
cellent gift for a friend who loves children and appreciates 
“their attractive qualities wherever found. As a specimen 
“of fine art-printing we have seldom seen its equal.” 

The Peabody Reporter, Peabody , Mass. 

“Purgatory” is not, as might be thought, a tractate con- 
cerning a Papal error, but a very touching story of a little 
“fellow to whom the pseudonym had been given by A. H. 
“Taidlaw, Jr.” — The Presbyterian Journal, Phila. Jan 28, 1892. 


Price 35 Cents, by Mail Postpaid. 

Dickson & Laidlaw, 733 Sixth Avenue, New York City. 



FROM THE PRESS OF 


GEORGE H. DICKSON’S SONS, 
733 Sixth Avenue, 

NEW YORK. 









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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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